


heat

by deadptarmigan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22681387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadptarmigan/pseuds/deadptarmigan
Summary: The Cannons are playing, but Harry and Ginny could not care less.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	heat

[16](https://m.fanfiction.net/r/13497908/)

" _The Wigtown Wanderers are in the lead, to no one's surprise but the Cannons team captain."_

_"Careful now, Ron Weasley might send another Howler...*_

Harry groaned when Ginny stiffened in his arms. "Don't," he said, gasping. "Don't stop."

"He's always interrupting a good snog," said Ginny, indignant. There was smothered laughter in her tone that made his stomach flip over. "Now he's even managing to do it via the wireless. He's meant to be gone this afternoon!"

"Bit more than a snog," said Harry, desperate to get back to it. "Let's pretend your brothers don't exist. Remember when we do that sometimes?"

"Yes," said Ginny. "Those are my best days."

All of Harry's best days had a moment — or two — exactly like this. Ginny in his arms, their hands and mouths all over each other, him inside her, and them perfecting their communication with one another. His hand slid up to cup the back of her head and brought his lips down to hers. Once more, the Quidditch announcers became just background noise, hardly at all real. Why listen to them when Ginny's warm, clever fingers were stroking his stomach and drifting downward?

"Yesh," he groaned, when those same fingers brushed against his shaft. His fly was open and it was out already. She'd been teasing it - and him - for several minutes now.

"Yesh?" Ginny said, chuckling.

His eyes slitted open. Her brown eyes caught the light from the late afternoon sun shining through the windows and it was a moment before he could speak. "Can't talk. Your hand. You know."

" _Parkin's got the quaffle — again — as Barnaby Lee drops it — again_.*

"You're fumbling your words the same way the Cannons are fumbling the Quaffle," said Ginny. At the same time, she gave him a firm squeeze that forced air out of his lungs.

Harry might have agreed with her but she'd chosen that moment to begin stroking him up and down and it was all he could do to keep himself on the sofa. She was brilliant at this, there was no better feeling in the world than Ginny's hands on him. Unless it was her mouth...

"What are you laughing at?"

Instead of answering, Harry kissed her. Hot, open-mouthed kisses, the kind they'd perfected in the summer after the war. Her grip on him tightened and fingernails dug into his chest as her mood shifted from still playful to passionate. His palm slid over her firm thigh and then in between, where he found heated flesh and damp curls.

His body strained against her hand but his focus had changed. It was a sudden imperative that she be as ready as he was, and he spent the next few minutes stroking her until her grip on him had gone slack and he was serenaded with her breathy moans.

"You like that?" he asked, when he'd found her clit.

She murmured something unintelligible.

He brushed it with light strokes, grinning when her hips kept canting upward. "You _really_ like that," he said, smug.

His fingers slid inside her, where she was hot and wet. After a couple of tries, his fingertips found one of her most sensitive spots — when he rubbed it, she jerked in his arms.

"And you really, _really—"_

Her hand clapped over his mouth. " _Yesh_ , I like it," she said. "Now get in here and do it with your penis."

Harry laughed outright. His head cleared a little as he did as she asked. It took some work to get his trousers down around his knees and his pants down his thighs. The Quidditch commentators had become an unimportant murmur in a sexual haze, but just as Harry rolled over and positioned himself at her entrance.

"— _even shorter than the Cannons games usually are. I've heard they don't bet on scores anymore, but on how long it takes for the Cannons to lose—"_

_"—remember, we don't want anymore howlers from the Cannons one and only fan—"_

_"—Right. Congratulations are in order for the Wigtown Wanderers, who managed to not allow the Cannons a single score before their Seeker caught the Snitch!"_

"Hurry!" Ginny demanded.

Harry managed to get his arms around her and nudged his way into her. His eyes slammed shut of their own accord as her wet heat surrounded the tip of him... then half his shaft... and then everything as he was buried as deep inside her as he could go.

Even though they'd kept both their shirts on, he was pressed up tightly enough against her he could feel her heart pounding in rhythm with his.

"Oh fuck," he said, almost reverently.

"That's the idea," said Ginny.

His eyes opened. Ginny's face blurred in front of him. Heat blazed between them, but there was no small amount of tenderness when her fingertips found his scar and trailed down it, then his cheek, then brushed over the beginnings of his beard to cup his chin. Pleasure surged through him, making him shudder, and push against her. Her legs wrapped around him.

"You feel so good," she whispered.

"So do you," said Harry.

And then they were rocking against each other in a slow, steady rhythm. His eyes were open as he moved inside her — there was nothing he liked more than watching pleasure suffuse her — it was like staring into a brilliant light and he didn't want to miss a single moment.

He adjusted his angle, earning a mewl of pleasure. When he kept at it, the mewl became louder and louder, echoing in his ears.

"Oh Harry!" she cried, straining against him. "Yes!"

She was coming undone under his gaze. Under him. As much as he loved it when she did the riding, he loved moments like this, when he could feel every inch of her trembling with pleasure they'd created _together_. Blood thundered in his ears. Pride entwined with pleasure inside him... much the way he and Ginny were entwined. _He_ could make her feel this way.

In her eyes, he saw the same feeling reflected back at him. There was a particular lilt to her upper lip and a fierce, possessive way she was gripping him.

He bent his head and kissed that tiny smirk.

" _Mine_ ," said Ginny, gasping. "It's _us_."

"Yesh," said Harry.

The heated moment was only heightened by the laugh they shared together. Then Harry began to thrust with a stronger, faster rhythm. His hands fisted in her hair, his body surged against hers, and the pleasure courses through him in such a way that he was hardly even aware of the door to the sitting room opening.

"Did you hear — oh for _fuck's sake! Again!"_

The door slammed shut again just as Harry froze.

" _Don't you dare_ ," Ginny ordered. High color spread across her cheeks and her eyes glittered dangerously. "They don't exist right now, remember? Remember?!"

"Right," Harry whispered.

He was barely able to articulate to himself that at least the high back of the sofa they were on had hidden them from view, though the sounds they were making was clue enough. But pleasure sucked him down again and he resumed his thrusts. Even harder this time, feeling the tightness in his back and the pressure in his groin.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Ginny chanted. "I'm going to come. I'm coming."

"I know," Harry grunted. He could feel her clamped around him, and tiny flutters around his penis. Sweat dripped down his brow. It was two more thrusts and she jerked in his arms, crying out his name, piercing his sides with her fingernails, and throwing him up and into his own climax. "Oh fuck," he said. "Oh fuck, yeah, Ginny, you made me come." And he was coming, and his pleasure finally found an outlet, racing out of him and flooding her.

His head dropped down and his whole body collapsed on top of her. Exhaustion swamped him. Where their bodies met, Harry was still twitching with the aftermath. His breathing was harsh to his own ears and he suddenly felt as heavy as though he'd just flown a hundred laps around Hogwarts.

"Merlin, Harry, you outdid yourself," said Ginny, voice muffled against his chest. When Harry moved a little to give her more space to breathe, she arched against him, long and slow. "You made me come so hard, Ron is never going to feel adequate again."

"Who?" Harry said innocently.

Ginny gave his bum a smack. "We should've locked the door... I didn't know the game would end so soon."

"Apparently only the team captain and Ron thought the Cannons had a chance," said Harry. He rolled off her and began to fix up his clothing. Just as he was buttoning his fly, he froze. "You know, maybe those Quidditch commentators aren't the only ones who are going to get a Howler from Ron today..."

A wicked smile curved her lips. "Oh, you earned a _Howler_ today, Harry... you really did."

As Harry leaned forward to kiss her, he thought perhaps he could smuggle Ginny up the stairs to his room... they could pretend her brothers didn't exist for another few hours...

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked when he pulled away.

"That it's time to go upstairs for another match?" he asked immediately. "Yes."

She stood, adjusted her skirt, and grinned. "Race you."


End file.
